Hidden
by Riggs
Summary: I don't own the rights to D&D. If I did, it would be on DVD by now. Here a story instead!
1. Default Chapter

Prologue  
  
Torias hummed gently to himself as he rode through the forest. It was a perfect day, he decided; he had always loved autumn, loved the changing colour of the land. Although he had travelled the path many times, he doubted that he would ever stop appreciating the majesty of his homeland.  
  
Giving his steed a pat on the neck, he quickened his pace. She would be waiting for him, he thought with a smile, and it would not do to keep the lady waiting.  
  
His smile fell slightly as he sniffed the air.was that burning he could smell? A terrible sense of foreboding filled him, and soon he was racing to his home at full speed. Until he had met her, he had never been much of a rider, but now he rode effortlessly through the dense forest, praying that she would greet him, as she always did, with a sarcastic comment and a smile.  
  
His horse reared as they approached the flames, and he leapt to the ground, running the short distance that lay between him and his burning home.  
  
She will be all right, he assured himself. She is a warrior. She will be all right.  
  
Torias felt a wave of nausea sweep through him as his eyes fell upon a dark shape on the ground. He rushed to it, his fears confirmed; it was his beloved. He carried her away from the flames, and set her down, tenderly stroking her face.  
  
"Aya," he said softly. "It is safe now. You are safe. You need to wake up."  
  
The woman's prone form did not stir. Torias placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. "Aya," he implored, his voice breaking. "Do not do this to me, I beg you, please."  
  
The passing of the hours went unnoticed by Torias as he tried every spell, every medicinal technique he had ever learnt to revive her. He ignored the blood that stained her, and now him; he ignored the wound to her chest that could not be anything other than fatal. For nearly two days he worked tirelessly, before accepting that all hope was lost.  
  
His sobs echoed through the trees as he laid her in a boat and returned her to the river, in the manner of her people. He knelt by the river, and saw the reflection of a broken man staring back at him. Life without her was inconceivable; he took the blade that she had given him all those years ago, and thrust it into his own heart. He called her name once more, before the world went black. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
"How much further?" the young man groaned, his breath coming in short rasps. The boy walking by his side laughed.  
  
"You can't be tired already, Eric! We only rested a couple of hours ago!"  
  
Eric looked sourly at the boy, wiping sweat soaked hair from his forehead. "Easy for you to say, Bobby. You're not the one wearing plate armour."  
  
"Think of it as character building," a female voice interjected. Eric tutted and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.  
  
"Wow, he must be tired. Maybe we should take a break," a second female voice opined, quiet and gentle. Eric turned to them.  
  
"Don't worry about me, ladies," he said between gasps. "You'll find that this cavalier is."  
  
Eric's sentence ended abruptly as he collapsed in a noisy heap onto the dusty ground. The two girls rushed to him as Bobby sniggered.  
  
"Stop it, Bobby," the gentle voiced girl reprimanded, her voice pleading rather than stern. She turned to the other girl. "Is he okay, Diana?"  
  
The dark-skinned girl tapped Eric briskly on the side of his face. "C'mon, cavalier," she said with a smirk. Finish your sentence!"  
  
Eric's eyelids fluttered. "I don't feel so good."  
  
His friends had all gathered round now, expressions ranging from amusement to annoyance, and in Sheila's case, concern.  
  
"We don't have time for this," Hank said with a bite of impatience. "We're stuck in the open in unfamiliar territory."  
  
"Well, I'm so sorry, almighty leader," Eric began, standing uneasily. "But some of us didn't make the team, and some of us are wearing nearly twice our weight in metal. Perhaps-"  
  
"Perhaps you should stop whining," Hank said shortly.  
  
"Please don't fight," Sheila said in a small voice. It had been like this a lot lately; Eric and Hank had been at each other's throats for weeks now. It seemed like they were taking their frustration at being stuck in this world out on each other, with the others stuck in the middle. Hank was finding the mantle of leadership hard to bear, particularly when his friends made stupid mistakes. They had all made them, it was just that Eric's were more frequent and more spectacular than the others were, the signalling of the most evil multi-dimensional entity being the icing on the cake. Sheila suspected that it was down to Eric's upbringing; he had always been known as a spoilt rich kid, never respecting other people's advice or requests. It was a mindset he had struggled to escape from, but with limited success.  
  
Still, Sheila knew that Hank was just venting some anger rather than showing leadership right now; Eric did whine, but he was finding the climate and terrain difficult, and given his uniform, it was entirely understandable. Unfortunately, neither of the young men seemed to be in much of a mind to listen to her pleas.  
  
"Whining, am I?" Eric said, his voice rising. "Well, if I'm whining, I may as well make a proper job of it. I'm sick of this world. I'm sick of having to lug this stupid armour, and this stupid shield, around every godforsaken landscape this world can throw at us!"  
  
"Well-"  
  
"I'M NOT FINISHED!" Eric bellowed, cutting Hank off. "I'm sick of listening to you, blindly following Dungeonmaster around, never realising the obvious; we are never going to get home! Not on his advice!"  
  
Diana put an arm around Sheila as she began to sob. "That's enough, Eric," she said softly, but Eric waved a hand dismissively.  
  
"Don't tell me you haven't thought it! That little creep is hiding something! We didn't get here by accident, something had to have brought us here! Tell me this," Eric began, his voice dropping in volume. "How are we supposed to get home if we don't know why we're here?"  
  
Presto and Diana looked at each other; they had evidently also harboured such thoughts. Hank looked upwards and sighed.  
  
"Eric, Dungeonmaster is the only guide we have in this place. He may be cryptic, and he may even be selective with the full facts sometimes, but what would we do without him?"  
  
"Hank's right," Sheila said.  
  
"There's a surprise," Eric muttered sarcastically.  
  
"But you are too," she said, shooting a guilty glance at Hank. "You're both right. How many times have we nearly got home?"  
  
The others looked at each other uncomfortably. Presto shrugged, and Sheila looked down, tears glittering on her lashes.  
  
"We've been so close, so many times; if Venger doesn't destroy the portal, then there are strings attached-"  
  
"Yeah, like 'go home and ensure the destruction of an entire world'," Eric said gloomily. The he admitted, "Even though I hate this place, I couldn't live with that on my conscience."  
  
"There have been times," Presto said quietly, "that I've thought we should just hand over the weapons to Venger on the condition he sent us home, if he could."  
  
The others looked shocked, but Presto merely shrugged with a faint smile. "We were dragged into this world and expected to fight. No one asked us."  
  
Eric nodded fervently. "That's right. We were just kitted up in these stupid outfits and sent on one wild goose chase after another. We don't owe this world, or Dungeonmaster, anything. He owes us answers."  
  
"That's enough," Hank said, but his voice lacked conviction. "The people of this world trust Dungeonmaster, and we should too. Yes, we've gotten close to home but never quite made it, but if it wasn't for Dungeonmaster, we wouldn't have even got that far."  
  
To everyone's surprise, Eric nodded in agreement. "That's true," he sighed. "I just wish that our only ally in this crappy world wasn't some midget that won't give us a straight answer."  
  
"I'm sorry if I have been unreasonably cryptic," a voice chimed in, and Eric grimaced at the predictable chorus of 'Dungeonmaster!' All the kids looked uncomfortable, however, wondering how much their mentor may have heard. The diminutive mage smiled easily, however.  
  
"I fear that I am only going to add to your anguish," he said, a touch dryly. "She who sleeps in a prison of her own making must be awoken, by one whose heart has not yet been claimed."  
  
"Riiight," Eric said, rolling his eyes. "Where and when?"  
  
"The where," Dungeonmaster said gravely, "Is in the blue city of Ethron, to the north of these plains. The when," he continued, "is as soon as possible, for she may be able to return you to your homeworld. But beware, for Ethron and its surrounding lands are governed by Venger."  
  
The youngsters looked at each other in alarm; they had fought Venger many times, but had always avoided the lands he had dominion over.  
  
"So who's this woman we've-"  
  
Hank realised he was addressing thin air; Dungeonmaster was gone. Eric smirked unpleasantly.  
  
"Now there's a surprise," he said. He looked at the others. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to do what the man says.but not before a break, okay? This heat's killing me." 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Shadowdemon flitted into Venger's throne room. Venger was sitting, half concealed by shadow, in a seat that managed to be grotesque and magnificent at the same time. If his recent behaviour was anything to go by, Shadowdemon could confidently predict that Venger would be participating in his favourite pastime: brooding.  
  
His master hadn't been the same since what Shadowdemon delicately referred to as 'the graveyard incident'. There, Venger had been at the mercy of Dungeonmaster's six pupils, who had devised a plan to destroy him. However, they did show him mercy, and Venger's mood had been all the more unpleasant for it ever since.  
  
Then there had been the incident with the Box of Balefire.  
  
"What is it, Shadowdemon?" Venger said, his voice a low rumble, his head turning slightly. Shadowdemon bowed slightly.  
  
"You asked me to observe the movements of the young ones, master," he said quietly. "They.they have changed course due north, and speak of the city of Ethron." Shadowdemon looked up at Venger, and kept looking at him; he was most interested to see what his master's reaction would be.  
  
Venger's eyes became two slits of burning malevolence. "Really. I wonder what they think they will find there." He looked at his servant. "Did Dungeonmaster send them?"  
  
Shadowdemon nodded slightly. "I believe so."  
  
Venger stood up, and swept to the large window that revealed a moonless night. He muttered something under his breath, and a nightmare image of a horse came soaring from the sky, halting by its master's side.  
  
Shadowdemon looked puzzled. "You're going after them yourself? Is that wise?" he asked, regretting the words as soon as they had escaped from his invisible mouth.  
  
The creature cringed at the quelling look Venger bestowed on him. "I assure you, Shadowdemon, that when those accursed brats are finally eradicated, it will be by my hand. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, master," Shadowdemon answered meekly. "My apologies if I have spoken out of turn."  
  
Venger said nothing as he mounted his steed and flew into the night. Shadowdemon sighed, and wondered whether today would be the day when everything changed.  
  
"Wow," Eric said, his jaw slightly slack from awe. "That's a nice looking city."  
  
"Nice understatement," Diana breathed. "I don't think I've seen anything like this in the Realm before."  
  
The city before them was vast, and constructed from a strange pale blue stone, that appeared to shimmer under the intense heat. Somehow, it managed to incorporate a myriad of styles without seeming aesthetically cluttered; steep spires towered over domed roofs; cylindrical and cubic buildings stood happily together.even Sheila, who had more of an affinity with the countryside, was smitten.  
  
"It's so beautiful," she said, leaning on Hank's arm. He smiled at her.  
  
"Let's take a closer look."  
  
As they drew closer, the youngsters soon realised that all was not as it seemed; the city, which could have easily be home to thousands, seemed strangely deserted. They exchanged dark looks, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by wariness.  
  
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Eric muttered.  
  
"You have a bad feeling about everything, Eric," Presto responded nervously, but inwardly agreeing.  
  
"There," Hank said, pointing some way ahead. "A trader's caravan. We could ask them for information."  
  
"Or we could get attacked by orcs," Eric sighed. "Remember what shorty said about these lands being 'under Venger's dominion'. We have no idea who's in that caravan."  
  
Hank nodded slowly, as if making a decision. "You and Diana approach them.be friendly, but be ready for anything-"  
  
"Why us?" Eric moaned. He hated being bait.  
  
"Because," Hank explained patiently, "if we all go, we might spook them. If there's just the two of you, it'll seem less threatening."  
  
"I'll go, if Eric's too chicken!" Bobby said with a grin, but a steely look from Sheila made it clear that was out of the question.  
  
"I can't send Bobby because.they might be intimidated," Hank said, thinking quickly. "We don't know what their reaction to magic-users will be, so Presto's out of the running. My weapon's more suited to long range battle, so I'd be better as back up. Sheila could go invisible, but they would be able to see her footprints, and that might make them jumpy-"  
  
"I get the picture," Eric grumbled. He jerked his head irritably in Diana's direction, and she followed him with a grin.  
  
Hank watched them approach the caravan, bow at the ready. He hated giving orders, especially ones that sent his friends into danger. Leadership, however, was natural to him; he knew when he had to let logic override the calling of his heart.  
  
Eric and Diana were soon calling them over. "Okay," Hank said, "But be careful still. We don't want any nasty surprises."  
  
They joined Diana and Eric by the caravan and its owner, an amiable looking middle-aged man with wild hair, a merchant by the look of his attire. He smiled at the newcomers.  
  
"This is Rothgar," Diana said politely. "Rothgar, these are our friends," she gestured towards the others. "Hank, Sheila, Presto, and the little one is Bobby-"  
  
"I'm not little!" Bobby protested, which caused Rothgar to grin broadly. Uni bleated loudly, causing everyone to jump. "And don't forget Uni!"  
  
"How could we?" Eric muttered under his breath. Rothgar, on the other hand, seemed enchanted.  
  
"A unicorn!" he exclaimed, his voice bright with delight. Uni revelled in the attention he lavished on her, as he ran his hand through her shaggy orange mane. "I've never seen one this close," he whispered. Eric rolled his eyes.  
  
"If you like her so much, you can have her," he muttered again. Diana elbowed him sharply in the ribs, which was fairly ineffective on his armour, but he got the point nevertheless.  
  
"So, that's the city of Ethron," Hank said conversationally. Rothgar nodded.  
  
"On eof the wonders of this world," he said, but his voice was tinged with sadness. He looked at Hank, his expression suddenly shrewd. "Quieter than you expected?"  
  
Although the question had been directed at Hank, all of the kids nodded. Rothgar sighed, still stroking the baby unicorn.  
  
"There are few of us left now, the old families of Ethron," he explained, his eyes set on the city. "My forefathers were aristocrats, but now look at me," he said bitterly. "A merchant."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with being a merchant," Sheila offered.  
  
"You are generous, child," he said. "But the decline of my family line is representative of Ethron as a whole. We have no new blood coming in, and old blood leaves us all the time." He looked at the city wistfully. "Although its people fade, the glory of Ethron remains strong. The city itself does not decay, preserved by a magic that, regrettably, does not extend to its inhabitants."  
  
"Why aren't there people queuing up to live here?" Eric asked. "This is prime real estate!"  
  
Rothgar looked at Eric with an odd expression, seemingly puzzled by both Eric's turn of phrase and by how to answer the question.  
  
"Have you heard nothing?" he asked, slightly incredulously. The kids looked at each other, and shook their heads, deciding it was best to play ignorant. Rothgar threw his head back and laughed.  
  
"I would keep you in the dark, in the hope that you would settle in our fair city," he said. "But such deceit is not within me. The city," he said tiredly, "is said to be cursed."  
  
They stood in silence before Presto chimed in timidly, "Is it?"  
  
Rothgar smiled. "Strange things happen, true, but nothing terrible, other than the slow deterioration of our people. We.have you heard of Venger?"  
  
"Yes!" the kids chorused, causing the merchant to jolt in surprise. The expressions on their faces left little doubt as to their thoughts on Venger. Rothgar looked uncertain.  
  
"Well, Lord Venger rules these lands," he said. "I know he has a reputation for terrible things, but he is very fair to us!" His tone contained a note of pleading. "He generally leaves us alone, but people are scared to come to our city, to trade.so we go to them-" he gestured to his caravan. "-And try to keep our city alive."  
  
Hank tried to keep the look of revulsion from his face, with limited success. "You allow Venger to rule over you?"  
  
Rothgar stiffened slightly. "The elders are of the opinion that he has shown nothing but generosity to Ethron, therefore we need not oppose him." He shook his head. "Such compliance has a price, as you can imagine."  
  
"What does Venger ask for in return?" Diana asked grimly. Rothgar raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Nothing," he answered simply. "But his.deeds in other lands, stories of his cruelty."  
  
He shrugged, struggling for words. "I haven't seen my two children for nearly five years; they began to question why we followed a man who is feared throughout the Realm. I couldn't give them a satisfactory answer.so they both left."  
  
"Can't blame them," Hank muttered, and Rothgar smiled sadly. Hank looked at him shrewdly. "So what do you think, Rothgar?"  
  
Rothgar glanced around nervously. "I.I have reservations about our lord," he admitted. "But I am in a minority; you'll find that he is held in near reverence by many of my kinsfolk. Our harvests are plentiful, sickness is rare-"  
  
"But your city is dying because of its association with him," Sheila finished quietly. Rothgar nodded.  
  
They plodded along in silence once more, lost in their thoughts. Eventually Hank looked up at the darkening sky.  
  
"We'd best make camp," he said. Rothgar shuffled uncertainly, but Hank answered his question before he had asked it. "You're welcome to join us, Rothgar."  
  
The merchant beamed with pleasure; others, however, were not so happy. 


End file.
